


Got a Hold on Me Like Glue

by Punxutawney



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Casual Sex, D/s, M/M, Painplay, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8491042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punxutawney/pseuds/Punxutawney
Summary: Scott experiments with BDSM with strangers as stress relief. It sort of helps.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Howlin' for You" by The Black Keys.

Scott’s still bleeding.

It’s almost a funny feeling. It’s only been a couple of years, but he’s already completely forgotten what it’s like to feel this vulnerable. He hasn’t forgotten how to treat wounds -- he gets plenty of practice, regularly. But it’s weird to touch his own open skin, feel the ache in swollen tissue.

It’s always hurt just the same, but knowing he’ll heal has made it easier to forget the momentary pain. Now he can’t stop thinking about it. His fingers itch to trace the outlines of his wound all the time.

Scott finishes changing the bandage and puts a fresh shirt on. He knows he should soak the blood-stained one in cold water right away but he feels too tired to do rational things right now. With everything else around him dissolving into chaos, it doesn’t feel very important to worry about laundry right now.

It’s hard to even concentrate on what to worry about. With Kira’s leaving, Scott feels like the last of the stitches that were holding together his shabby little world have torn. Malia is angry all the time. Lydia is gone. Liam can’t even look at him. And Stiles… Scott’s chest fills with more than a physical ache. He feels like throwing up. How could he let Theo do this to them? 

Scott curls up on his bed. He can’t sleep, but there’s no one to talk to, no one to see, nothing to do until tomorrow. Except for one thing.

Mixed with all the frustration and guilt and anger, there’s the lust. Scott feels ashamed for even thinking about it, but it’s impossible not to want it now. He could actually get hurt, visibly, right now.

It’s the one thing that’s always held him back, his supernatural healing. There’s no way of faking around it. He can’t risk revealing himself to random people he hooks up with. He gets tied up and slapped and spanked. No one’s going to notice afterwards he didn’t bruise.

He really, really wants to text the guy he’s been seeing for a few months now. They have a pretty good thing going on. They met through a mutual contact, a younger guy Scott went home with a few times but who wasn’t seriously into it. He said he had a friend, though, and set them up. It sort of spiraled from there, and it’s pretty much the only thing keeping him together right now. Well, maybe not, but now that Scott’s thinking about it he gets a little desperate and obsessive about it.

Scott’s got the guy listed under “pizza 24/7” on his phone. Not that he ever calls the number.

Scott fiddles with his phone, checks his empty inbox and messages about three times, before typing a simple _Hi_ and pressing send.

It takes a couple of interminably long minutes before his phone buzzes.

_Hi, baby. What’s up?_

He thinks about what to reply. It could go anywhere from here. They could just hook up like usual. That would probably take the edge off. But there’s a dull ache in his veins that he thinks will never go away unless someone forces it out of him.

Scott swallows, types his reply with shaking fingers.

_Are you free? Could we try plan b tonight?_

He waits, heart in his throat. He’s already half-hard with anticipation and fear. Maybe the guy is busy tonight. He might not want it today. He’s got a life too, their schedules don’t always match.

The phone vibrates again.

_Yes. You wanna start right now?_

Scott’s shoulders nearly sag with relief.

_Y. Im all yours._

Typing the familiar words relaxes him immediately.

_That’s my boy. Do you have your collar near, baby?_

Scott bites his lip and lets himself feel the first wash of pleasure through his body. Finally a simple question he can answer.

_Yes. Its in my bottom drawer._

_Good. Take it out and take off your pants._

Scott does as he’s told, sitting back on his bed with the collar in his lap, black leather resting against his bare thighs. Sometimes it’s enough that the man tells him to wear it and touch himself. He needs more than that tonight.

_Ive got it._

He runs a fingertip over the familiar leather, the little metal studs.

_Good boy. Now turn it inside out and wrap it around your left thigh. Pull it tight enough that your skin breaks._

Scott shivers as he reads the words. He drops the phone and follows the instructions. He’s always thought the studs were a bit too sharp to be decorative. They sink into his skin as he straps his thigh. It stings and he pulls the leather tighter until it doesn’t give anymore. As he flexes the muscles of his thigh, the studs sink a little deeper and a small trickle of blood works its way out.

_Ive put it on._

Scott closes his eyes for a while and concentrates on the sensation. It doesn’t hurt much compared to his real wounds, but it’s a steady pulsating feeling every time his heart beats.

_Well done. Now clean yourself up for me. Do not touch yourself. Then get dressed, delete these messages and meet me at the apt in an hour._

-

It all started last year. The encounter with the Nogitsune had left them all shaken. Scott almost lost Stiles. He lost Allison. After that, it was like things started piling up. Like there was a leak somewhere and Scott had to keep swimming to stay alive.

Then became the physical presence in his body, an ache he couldn’t make disappear no matter how much he strained himself. And it was ridiculous, because it wasn’t even him who got hurt. Scott was fine, and everyone around him kept suffering.

Exercise helped some, and sex. Anything physical.

Scott’s not sure how he stumbled upon the idea of sleeping with a guy. He’d never thought of himself as super-straight or anything, but so far he’d only liked girls. It didn’t really matter. But it seemed gross somehow to pick up a girl from a bar or somewhere. He wasn’t sure he could even do it. He didn’t know any of the rules. Besides, he didn’t even know where you would pick up a woman, he didn’t exactly have experience.

He knew where to pick up a guy, though. They’d ended up in enough gay clubs with Stiles over the last few years.

It was nerve-racking beforehand, but in the end, it was oddly easy. It was a Friday and a full house. Scott went in alone and it didn’t take long for someone to chat him up and buy him a drink.

“I’ll have, um, a diet coke.”

Scott needed to calculate this just right.

“How old are you?”

The guy was a little older but still young, mid-twenties maybe. He had blond hair and a little stubble. Scott really wanted to lick his face.

“Uh… Nineteen?”

The man fixed him with a look.

“Okay, I’m eighteen. Nineteen in a few months.”

Scott was pretty sure he could get away with eighteen with his werewolf physique. There was no use pretending to be drinking age, anyway.

From there, it was almost too easy. They went back to the guy’s place. Scott got to lick his face as well as other things. He had expected it to be awkward, but it was just fun.

After that, it became a semi-regular thing in his life. He didn’t spend all of his free time with Stiles anymore, after all. Stiles had Malia, and that was good. Scott was happy for them. There was Kira, and she was sweet and Scott liked that sweetness, it was good to be around. She had a lot going on though. And Scott couldn’t survive on sweet things alone. Sometimes, he wasn’t even sure if they were really dating.

So after the dust had settled, Scott found himself with a surprising number of free nights. It was nothing, then, to go out and hook up with a stranger now and then. He was nice, and fit, and it was enough to make him attractive to most guys.

It helped some. Scott still felt like drowning most of the time, but it was good to let his body make the decisions for a few hours. And it was good to learn new things.

It took a little while until Scott had the courage for anal, but when he finally had a man fuck him it was bliss. He hadn’t thought he’d like to be on that end of things much, and the practice he did at home didn’t do much for him. But when the guy finally hit home, Scott wanted to feel this way, always. He could ride a dick forever.

In-between schoolwork and monsters and dodging awkward encounters with his dad, that wasn’t really an option. But now that he had the means to check out of his head for a while, it made things a little more bearable.

The first time Scott had a guy tie him up and slap him around, it felt so good he started to cry. He thought for a while he’d ruined it all but the man was gentle with him. They cuddled and talked and he explained to Scott it was normal. That in fact, that was the whole point if it made him feel good. They met a few times after that, before the guy entered an exclusive relationship.

It was easier to find company online, after that. Beacon Hills wasn’t a big place, though it drew people in on the weekends. The scene wasn’t huge, but it was there. Scott feared for a while he would meet up with a guy who turned out to be a teacher of his or someone else he knew, but so far it hadn’t happened.

A pretty young guy who could take a thrashing made for an interesting prospect for a lot of men. He subbed for a few women, too, but mainly for the guys. He wasn’t in it for a steady relationship, which was also a plus. By now he had enough contacts to set up a meeting any time the need struck.

-

They always meet at the guy’s apartment downtown. Scott’s actually not sure if he lives there or not. It’s spare and doesn’t feel lived in. Probably the guy just rents it for occasions like these.

By the time Scott has parked his motorcycle, he can feel his skin is sticky under his jeans. The stinging has become a background ache, and he’s still hard, has been since the first text. He wears compression boxers for these things to keep himself a little more presentable in public.

Some guys would probably be into him wearing a jock, but he doesn’t bring sports up. That’s too much of a tell. Only high schoolers play lacrosse here.

Scott punches in the entry code. He takes the elevator to the top floor. It’s 59 minutes after the command. He waits at the door for a minute before he rings the doorbell. 

-

Scott felt so lucky he’d met this guy. He had a serious aura about him, and before their first session he wanted to set up a few basic rules. Anything Scott had done before had been pretty situational. It was a little exciting to think there was a script for their future meetings as well. It felt like the guy wanted them to be on the same page from the very start. It was a really nice feeling.

“I want you to know that whatever you ask me to do in the scene, I’ll engage in it if it’s okay for me. I won’t ask you for assurance. If you ask for something, you need to be sure you want it. Does that sit well with you?”

He sounded like a dom Scott could get used to. He didn’t like being asked if he was okay. Sometimes a top couldn’t bring himself to really push him. There were some downsides to his youth.

“You’re nineteen, right?”

“Nineteen, yeah. Is that a problem for you?”

Scott felt a little nervous. He’d needed to update his age. It was impossible to stay eighteen forever. Even then, sometimes his age was a turnoff for people who didn’t want a baby sub to look after.

“No. You’re an adult and I’ll take your word for it. I don’t want to see your ID.”

The relief Scott felt then had so far underscored their entire relationship. It was a relief to let the man be in charge for a while.

Scott had mostly liked the physical aspect of D/s so far. Being held down and hurt made him aware of his body, and at its best, of nothing but it. With this man, he found that simple commands could relax him too. Once he just cooked a meal for them, and getting lost in the detailed instructions felt good.

Not that the guy wasn’t a master at the physical as well. He was tall and strong and could have crushed Scott if only he was human. As it was, this was the closest he’d felt to being actually physically overpowered during sex. He got to be manhandled and pushed and slapped and stretched out, used until his jaw ached and joints burned and muscles were sore.

Sometimes they just fucked. They’d agreed if one of them wasn’t up for a scene, they could always do that. Scott still liked that, too, straddling a guy and riding his cock until he came untouched. Sometimes multiple times. A lot of guys liked seeing that, too.

Scott sort of didn’t get the word “untouched.” He always thought he got touched plenty.

“I envy your prostate, you know that?” one guy had told him after he’d fingered Scott into a writhing mess. It might have been a werewolf thing.

-

Scott could swear he nearly comes at the first cut.

It’s probably the anticipation that has built up. No one ever brought up serious bodily harm before the man, and Scott knew he couldn’t ask for it. It remained a thing between him and his porn collection. He’s thought about it ever since the man first mentioned it though.

“Let’s call it Plan B. If you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t bring it up again. I am completely happy with what we’re doing here, but that’s something that’s on the table.”

Ever since, Scott has wanted it. So bad. But the instant healing, which is also part of the appeal, was in the way. With that gone, he’s free to finally do this.

He can still smell the blood like before. The cut on his back is a line of little, flickering pain. The edge of the knife moves down over his shoulder blade.

The guy made him undress slowly as usual, in keeping with their little ritual. They broke the scene for a little while for Scott to explain his chest wound, even though they’ve built enough of a relationship to trust one another to know their limits. The placement does make it look pretty bad, so it was okay. Scott doesn’t mind the concern.

Once back in, the concern disappears. Scott gets quickly lost in the small commands, telling him to move and open himself up and offer himself up on the pristine bed in the middle of the room. He gets gagged tonight -- he makes a lot of noise -- and filled with a plug. That alone is sometimes enough, or with a blindfold, so the extra sensation fucks with his head something fierce. The cuts that follow on the small of his back send sparks through his nerves.

The man never compliments him on his looks. It’s one of the things Scott likes about him. He knows he’s pretty, or even handsome or sometimes beautiful, to most people. But what he wants is to be told he’s done well. That he’s good. That his body’s instinctual reaction is enough.

When the blade cuts into the flesh of his thigh and he comes between his stomach and the silky bedspread, muscles spasming against the plug and a muffled scream forcing its way out of him, and the man tells him that he’s a good boy, that he’s so proud of him, Scott can almost believe it for a while.


End file.
